


Mightier Wings

by bliumchik



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, The Sandman
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-15
Updated: 2005-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-26 02:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/277788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bliumchik/pseuds/bliumchik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer seeks out the mother-to-be of the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of This World, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mightier Wings

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting some of my older stuff here as a backup. A long time ago I was in a Good Omens RP on Livejournal which crossed over into Sandman territory (among others). I think it must have been one of the players that wondered about Adam's mother.
> 
> ...or it miiiight have been a prompt for the Good Omens Antichristmas exchange, my recordkeeping was poor in high school.

Lucifer knew the time had come. He made his preparations – said goodbye to those he could trust (to need more time to overcome their terror of him than he would be spending away), bound those he could not, locked the unstable gates. Dressed not in his finest clothes but in his Original clothes – the mist of darkness he had manifested to shroud his visage when he had awoken, naked, on his back on the highest peak of Hell. He remembered struggling to his feet, his wings uncomfortable; feathers matted and soiled with blood. He had looked out over what he was slowly realizing was his domain – over the prone forms of fallen angels, the weaker of them shifting and changing in their comatose state, growing extra limbs and malforming their skeletons, the stronger already stirring, flickering. One of the scorched figures lying on a ledge a few metres below Lucifer’s had lifted its head and risen to one knee in a mocking symbol of allegiance, and it had taken the Morningstar all his strength not to flinch at Beelzebub’s ashen face, skin dripping and melting, as Belial shuddered and wept and spasmed by his side. The cloth of darkness had been as much a protection from those accusing eyes as a symbol of his dominance.

And dominance was what he needed now, a reminder of his power, a reminder that as old as the one he was seeking may be, he was old too, and older than his time, for hell had no tolerance for innocence. He had considered his choice for millennia, but the time had come, and it was after all fitting for the mother of his child to be the personification of Desire, when it had been desire for power that sparked his fall as much as a dream of freedom and a despair of the unchanging heavens – and which cost the least to admit to. So he clothed himself in his robes of darkness, and he went to the fortress of Desire, wings beating heavily through the floating mists.

The tawny-eyed Endless had been expecting him – it was seated on its official Throne, an impressively gigantic thing of metal and sharp edges and manacles – although Desire itself sprawled lazily across several large pillows, toying with a whip.

“Milady,” Lucifer sneered, bowing as he landed on the floor in front of his intended.

Desire raised a perfect eyebrow. “Getting a bit ahead of ourselves, aren’t we? Assuming I’m a lady at the moment?”

Lucifer frowned. “Forgive me, m- …Endless. But may I be so bold as to suppose that you are expecting me?”

“If you supposed thus, you would indeed be correct,” Desire smiled predatorily and crossed its leather-booted legs. “But the real question you ask is,” it leaned forward, “Will I give you what you want?”

“It is inevitable.” The Morningstar said. “This world must end. Even the humans have predicted it, in their garbled fashion. And the war will start with my Son.” He inclined his head towards the implacable figure on the throne. “Your son.”

“Ah.” Desire stood in one fluid movement. “But you see, he will not be mine.” It reached out and gripped Lucifer’s chin, and he snarled, but Desire simply leaned forward and pressed its beautiful lips to his.

Lucifer’s world spun and distorted; he felt, for a moment, a gravel path beneath his feet and a dry, papery voice in his ear; and then he was landing on his hands and knees on a black marble floor, which gave the impression of having recently been a beige carpet.

“Are you alright?” He looked up at the sound, and found his gaze caught by a pair of kind black eyes in a pale, pale face. She smiled, and offered him a hand up. “My family can be, at times, cryptic.”

Her formal dress was as black as her eyes, and the silver ankh that swung from her neck would have been identification enough, if he hadn’t known who she was at a single touch of her hand.

“…you?” He asked, bemused.

“That’s what the mortals often say.” She answered gently. “I think I know why you’re here.”

Lucifer composed himself. “Indeed. We have… business to attend to. Desire – “

She cut him off with a shake of the head and a finger pressed to his lips. “My sibling knew what it was doing.”

The Morningstar nodded. “Very well. It is… fitting, I suppose. Since the child will bring you to everyone on Earth.”

Death merely smiled knowingly, and he thought he heard the beating of mightier wings than his as she kissed him.


End file.
